


Not So Bad

by cherryroad



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, cliché nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-18
Updated: 2010-06-18
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:32:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryroad/pseuds/cherryroad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It turns out bad luck can always turn back around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not So Bad

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by [lady_fro](http://lady-fro.livejournal.com/). For the lovely [emilie_kitten](http://emilie-kitten.livejournal.com/).

“My neck feels really weird, like…this stretchy burn. It feels like something punctured my skin but there’s not any marks, are there?” The dude was sort of holding the right side of his neck and looking around the party suspiciously, as if something was going to jump out of the shadows and grab him at any moment. His black hair hung over most of his face, but intense green-hazel eyes were easily visible through the tangled barrier.

“No, there’s nothing there,” the kid next to him added. He pushed his huge glasses a little bit down his nose and tilted his head backwards so he had a creepy male librarian look to him. But more badass.

Frank, who cannot help but eavesdrop into conversations at parties, especially when he’s drunk, and _especially_ when those who are holding the conversation are kind of ridiculously hot, decided to interject. “Is it stretchy like you’re growing another head or more burning like a vampire bit you?”

Black-haired dude looked up suddenly and then winced. Glasses kid just stared at him.

“I’m Frank,” he said in lieu of more possibly uncomfortable silence. He put his beer in his left hand and threw his right hand out to shake. It was the beer, he was telling himself, it was definitely the beer that was making him be way more awkward than he usually was.

“Gerard,” said the mass of black hair as he shook Frank’s hand. Frank was sort of glad the glasses kid didn’t shake hands and only nodded once at him. “That’s my brother, Mikey. And it’s more like a phantom vampire bit me right here and the venom he – or she, I suppose – injected into my blood is making me grow another limb. On my neck. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Frank smiled, and moved a little more towards Gerard unconsciously. Gerard smiled just a teeny bit.

That launched Frank into talking about how the mind could potentially cause the body to feel inexplicable sensations, and instead of being offended about Frank _totally not_ implying that what Gerard was feeling was not real, Gerard started going on about this idea he had for a character in a comic he was going to write and how she was going to manipulate the mind into believing something that previously had not been true.

Then they talked about music, which invariably led to Frank talking about _his_ music and then talking about their gig that Saturday. Before they even knew it, it was four o’clock in the morning and a lot of people were mostly passed out and Frank hadn’t even left the spot where he was standing to get more beer. Gerard hadn’t, either.

They said their goodbyes and right before Gerard started away to go find where his brother went, Frank shoved a napkin with his name and phone number on it into Gerard’s jacket pocket before high-tailing it out the front door. He was such a _loser_.

***

When Frank woke up on the floor, freezing, he knew that day was not going to be his best one.

Turns out Frank had somehow fallen off – or, more like, was _pushed off_ by such unseen forces as his dogs – his bed and onto the floor, not taking any of the covers with him. He pulled on some warm socks, sweatpants and a shirt and decided he was going to climb back into bed with the warm canines until he caught sight of the alarm clock next to his bed. 10:47 AM. He had to be at his mom’s house in thirteen minutes to take her shopping because her car broke down. _Fuck._

He jumped back out of bed and frantically brushed his teeth, almost making himself gag on his toothbrush because he was too busy also dialing his mom’s cell phone to tell her he was going to be a little late. He rinsed once with mouthwash and it spilled half on the counter when he spit, so he had to take some toilet paper and half-heartedly clean it up - _I’ll do it later_ \- until his cell phone tells him it’s ten to eleven. He was not technically in as much of a rush as he was before but he felt bad about putting his mom off for a while.

Frank rushed out the door, hoping like no other that his car would actually fucking work this time when it had been so bitchy in the mornings the week before. It’s as if the car didn’t understand that Frank had places to be that didn’t include waiting around for his fucking car to decide that yes, it was going to function properly.

He stuck the keys into the ignition and the car sputtered for a bit, seemingly roaring to life, when it died. Frank tried again, smacked the dash, tried again. Some sputtering, but ultimately, the car wasn’t going to get going that easily. Frank flopped forward and rested his head on the steering wheel and screamed.

***

Frank flopped down onto his couch, absolutely exhausted. The day had not gotten any better. His mom took for-fucking-ever at the grocery store and then insisted on buying shoes and going to get her hair done. He dropped his mom off and then was held up for seriously ten minutes by a loud-ass train on his way back home because he decided to take a bit more of a scenic route to help him calm down from his frustrated rage.

By the time he arrived home he was seriously ready for a long, hot bath and a cheap horror movie on the couch with some ice cream. Unfortunately, the dogs were not pleased with Frank’s mad dash out of the house earlier that morning and so then decided to shit all over Frank’s kitchen floor.

Frank loves his dogs, he really does, but they just did _not_ need to pull that shit on this particular day, he thinks. He cleaned up the mess and fell over onto his couch, searching around half-heartedly for the remote so he didn’t fall asleep in five seconds, even though he planned not to move for the next five years.

He sunk into sleep, thinking about how the only good part of his day was buying some new black hair dye because his roots were starting to show, when there was a knock at his door.

Frank thought about ignoring it, because who the fuck would knock on his door at – he checks his cell phone – six in the evening? Aren’t most people eating dinner? But then he decided, fuck it, maybe it’s something or someone important, like his mom needing to go out again or Bob being kicked out by his girlfriend again for his slovenly habits.

Except it’s not any of those things. Frank opened the door, dumbstruck, to find that it was…his guy. Gerard. Who he met at the party seemingly forever ago. Who was really cute. Who had gotten Frank’s phone number. Who hadn’t fucking called _since_ then.

And he was holding a postcard.

“Uh…”

“Hi,” Gerard said, looking down at his foot anxiously and then back up at Frank. “So I know I didn’t call, and I know that was kind of a really dick move, and I’m sorry. I’m just really shy,” he fingered the postcard as if to demonstrate, “and I didn’t know if you’d still think I was cool or not when you weren’t, y’know, drunk or whatever. And then Mikey told me I was being stupid and he took your first name and your number and found your Facebook which had your address – and you should really be more careful about that kind of thing, okay.” He looked sternly at Frank who still didn’t know how to react. “But I’m sort of glad you weren’t because then I could find you.” Gerard then tentatively held out the postcard.

“Uh, okay.” Frank shifted his weight, back and forth, and then leaned against the doorway. “What’s this?”

“It’s for you,” Gerard said softly, and Frank gave him a ‘no shit’ face. “I wanted to make it up to you for not calling because I really do want to hang out with you sometime so I figured the best way was in person with a gift.” He looked so earnest Frank couldn’t help a small, little smile.

Frank looked down at the postcard in his hands. The front was a drawing, no doubt done by Gerard, of the two of them with their arms around each other’s shoulders, grinning from ear to ear, a little heart in the air above them. He flipped the card over quickly to read what Gerard had written. _Frank, I’m sorry for being such a douchebag, really. I hope I can somehow make it up to you so that we can be friends. xo G_

Frank could see the eraser marks at the end of the passage, and could only vaguely make out _o ma e mo h n t ._ He looked up at Gerard and smiled again.

“Or, uh, y’know, just…hanging out, and –” But before Gerard could finish, Frank cut him off with a kiss. Gerard relaxed and leaned against the doorjamb, bringing one hand up to hold Frank’s shoulder. Gerard’s mouth was sweet and soft, softer than it had looked when they were at the party, not that Frank had been consciously looking or anything, which made Frank think that maybe Gerard had prepared for something like this. After a moment, Frank smiled and took Gerard’s hand, leading him into the house.

“To be honest,” Frank said as he led Gerard into the living room and sat him down, “I’m sort of glad that you waited, because you have now been the uncontested best part of my week.” Gerard laughed as Frank took the postcard and made his way through to the kitchen. “Now that you’re here, you’re going to sit with me and we are going to eat some popcorn and watch a movie on my couch, as your penance.”

Frank glued himself to Gerard throughout the movie. At first, Gerard was a little nervous about touching Frank so much, and where he should touch him, but as soon as he knew that Frank wasn’t going to up and kick him out for a hand-to-hip contact, Gerard became much more comfortable. His strong hands held Frank’s body in place, and Frank felt so secure and cared for. By the end of the movie, Frank was practically laying in Gerard’s lap, Gerard’s arms secured around his middle.

“You totally were lying about being shy. I think that whole thing was just a ploy so that you’d have enough time to make the postcard.” Frank grinned.

Gerard just blushed further and looked away.


End file.
